I helmed an impromptu press conference that made the news.
A coroner’s inquest is held to determine a cause of an unusual death, and to make recommendations so such a death does not happen again. It is the job of the coroner’s jury to make those determinations and recommendations, and I was on such a jury. Note that a coroner’s jury in Ontario, where this occurred, consists of only five people.
It was a very high-profile matter, and had made national news. Every day, when we arrived at the courthouse, there were print and TV media; and the same when we went to and came back from lunch. I’d watch the evening news on TV, and see myself with the other jurors in the courtroom sketches made that day. But the media was not allowed to speak with us directly as we came and went. TV and still photos as we came and went were fine, but no talking with us.
We left for home every night. We were only sequestered in a hotel when deliberations began. Nice four-star place, rooms and food all on the government’s dime. We also had a conference room, of course. Over a couple of days, we made our determinations and our recommendations, typed them up, and informed the court that we were ready to go.
Well, they were read out in court, and it was apparent that what we found was not what was expected. The media in the courtroom buzzed excitedly among themselves. Then it was over, and we returned to the jury room to gather coats, briefcases, etc., before leaving the building.
Our court officer, who looked after us doing everything from making coffee to liaising with the judge on our behalf, told us that now that the inquest was over, the media could speak with us. He actually said, “Now, it’ll be open season on you folks.” He warned us that there was a crowd of reporters, TV, radio, print, outside the front of the building; but we could go out the back door into the alley, and with luck, avoid the media that way. So we did.
But anticipating this, the media was out there too. Questions from all sides, microphones, cameras, you name it. Rather surprising, but I guess the media had played this game before. There were so many that we would have had difficulty getting away from them. We quickly conferred, and decided that we had to give them something, and I was delegated to do it. So I stepped forward. Immediately, all cameras were trained on me, and at least a dozen microphones, each bearing the name and/or logo of a prominent media outlet pointed my way.
In the best traditions of the press conferences we’ve all seen, I made a brief statement (ad-libbed off the top of my head), and said I’d take a few questions. I fielded four or five of those, then said, “Thanks very much.” I did get a few laughs from them when I mentioned that after all that we had done, considered, and been put through, we’d really like to go and have a drink. Or three. The media, who got what they wanted, parted like the Red Sea, and off we went to the nearest pub.
That night, my press conference was on every TV and radio newscast. The next day, my remarks were in the papers. When I returned to work, my colleagues (all of whom had seen the news) were amazed that I could manage something like that. And I had to smile when one colleague, originally from Hong Kong, mentioned that I had even made the local Chinese station’s news. My remarks were in English, just as I spoke them, but I had been subtitled in Chinese characters! “And they were accurate!” said my colleague.
This post kind of got away from me, but it was a fun trip down memory lane recalling The Day I Held A Press Conference.
